


Chef Parker

by hannrose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, First Date, Fluff, cute shit, person A cooks for person B and messes up, soft, theyre MY two softies who love to love each other and tease each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannrose/pseuds/hannrose
Summary: Michelle finally worked up the courage to ask Peter out on a date. And, he ruins it by asking to cook dinner himself. (Basically-- the Parkers can't cook)





	Chef Parker

Michelle couldn’t cook. She was a literal disaster in the kitchen, unaware of what the different sized spoons meant and why you couldn’t just heat the oven at 600 degrees so the pizza only had to be in the oven for a handful of minutes. So, when Peter offered to cook for her for their first ever date, she was more than mildly impressed.

 

It had taken her months to work up the courage to ask him. She didn’t know why, exactly-- Peter Parker was just another boy. But, he was a boy Michelle was  _ fond _ of, and that wasn’t something that happened, like, ever. She’d think about him in class and write those stupid, ‘ _ Michelle Parker-Jones _ ,’ marriage things all over her notebook and would blush when he talked to her. Peter wouldn’t even say anything that was worth admiring over; he’d just be there, in front of her, with that cute smile of his, and Michelle would lose it.

 

It was more than just puppy love, she knew.

 

When Michelle asked him, he couldn’t contain his excitement. She leaned over, uncreatively, in English when they were supposed to be reading and asked, “Do you wanna go on a date with me, Parker?”

 

Why that moment in Mrs. Igna’s English class, reading a copy of the  _ Scarlet Letter _ ? Michelle couldn’t tell you the answer. Peter looked so handsome in his new sweater, and he was an expressive reader. He’d scrunch his eyebrows and would gasp and Michelle wanted to watch him read for hours.

 

Peter had gaped at her at first, like his tongue was stuck. But when she nudged his knee and asked, “ _ So _ ?” he practically screamed  _ yes _ .

 

The whole class stared at him. His entire face was red.

 

“I mean, y-yes,” he said at a lower volume. “I’d love to, MJ. Like, so, so much.”

 

Michelle beamed at him. “Great. I, uh, I’ll be over at your place on Friday at seven, then? We can go to that theater down the road that always plays old movies. I think they’re playing the  _ Wizard of Oz _ . No-- I know they’re playing it. I did a little research.” Why was she still  _ talking _ ?

 

Peter gave her a toothy smile, like he was enchanted by her awkward rambling. “That’d be great, MJ.” And, before turning back to his book, he cleared his throat and said something that would ruin their plans. “Would you, uh, would you want to come over earlier, though? I make a really mean lasagna.”

 

Now, it was her turn to contain herself. Michelle hadn’t had a home cooked meal in years--not to the fault of her parents, because they always tried to set aside enough time to chop up some veggies and throw it in chicken broth, but their pagers went off before the knife touched the cutting board. She was usually fine going to the myriad of places around her house for dinner, even though it was unhealthy, and quite lonely eating by herself in a restaurant.

 

And Peter wanted to  _ cook for her _ . How sweet was that?

 

“Absolutely. Yeah, that’d be great. So, around five?” she proposed.

 

“Five it is then,” Peter agreed. He was giving her the  _ look _ . The ‘I could look at you for hours and hours and never get bored’ look, the one that just made her melt in her seat.

 

For the rest of the week, Peter was hyping up his cooking. He promised her numerous times that it’d be the best damn dinner she would ever consume, that it’d bring her tastebuds to heaven. Most of that, Michelle could tell, was just Peter trying not to be chronically awkward, now that they were in that weird  _ courting _ period. However, she actually started to believe him. She was really expecting it to be the best damn dinner anyone had ever made.

 

They hadn’t set up a dress code, so Michelle wore a knee length black skirt and a white t-shirt tucked into it. It was simple; Peter liked simple. She let her hair fall over her shoulders, and put on the necklace he got her when they won Decathlon. Peter got them all gifts as an apology--Ned a  _ Star Wars _ book, Flash a stupid mug, Liz a cute sweater--and he said he was blanking on Michelle’s gift. It was perfect, though.

 

And Michelle liked perfect.

 

She made her way to Peter’s apartment around 4:50, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. She was unusually nervous. It was just Peter, Michelle had to remind herself. She’d been to his apartment a million times and she’d never been so comfortable around anyone else. But, oh, God, what if Peter made things weird? He was weird. He’d probably treat her differently, like she was now fragile, when all Michelle wanted was to be the best friends they already were, but with kissing and hand holds and long term commitment.

 

Hopefully, he understood that. And, when he opened the door, and Michelle saw his dopey grin, she knew he did. “You look great, MJ,” he complimented. Then, he pulled her in for a hug, his hand firm on the small of her back.

 

“I hope that’s not what you’re wearing,” she laughed against him. He was wearing basketball shorts and his  _ NASA _ shirt, which had a finger sized hole in the bottom of it.

 

“Is it not cute?” Peter pulled back, but his hands didn’t move. “I’m just wearing this while I get dinner prepared. In case I spill or something. I don’t want to get my good clothes dirty.”

 

“So, how long will it take? I’m starving, Parker. I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch.”

 

He bounced away from her, trailing over to the kitchen. “There are just a few small touches left, and then it’ll be like… forty five minutes. But! We have chips and other snacks that can be like your appetizer.”

 

Michelle rolled her eyes. “How fancy. You know, I’m really expecting a masterpiece out of you.”

 

“Good, because you’re getting once. Now go sit down, I need a clear work space to produce art,” Peter deadpanned, but quickly broke out into giggles. 

 

“Okay, Picasso. I’ll be on the couch, eating a fancy bag of Doritos, when you’re done.” Michelle grabbed the chips from the counter. “Just remember this is supposed to be a  _ date _ , so hurry up.”

 

Peter scoffed, “Shut up and eat your appetizer.”

 

He wasn’t acting extra nice, he wasn’t trying to impress her, they were still participating in their normal back and forth banter, and Michelle was more than happy about that. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she sat down on the couch. Because, Peter was going to join her. And maybe they would put a show on, and when she grazed her hand against his, she wouldn’t have to apologize.

 

That’s, actually, exactly what they did. Peter went to change into his date attire--dress pants and a white button down--and plopped himself on the couch right next to her. Michelle was invested in an episode of  _ Ancient Aliens _ , so it took her a minute to realize that Peter’s arm was around her. When she did, she leaned into it. They exchanged small, accepting smiles.

 

Okay, no-- Peter  _ was _ acting different. He seemed more confident. And no matter how much Michelle adored his shyness, she was really loving  _ this _ mode of Peter Parker. Shy Peter would’ve asked if it was okay to hug her, or to have his arm around her, and this Peter just went for it.

 

But, they should’ve saved the close cuddling for the movie theater. Michelle rested her head against his shoulder, playing it off with a pout. And, as the narrator described how aliens probably built the pyramids themselves, Peter started to absentmindedly play with the waistband of her skirt. And she could’ve sat like that for the rest of her life. Her insides were literal mush when Peter, out of nowhere, kissed the top of her head.

 

Yeah, Michelle really liked it when he was confident.

 

The downside was that they didn’t move for  _ way too long _ . One episode turned into two, and maybe it was because the Doritos were a good appetizer, or maybe because they were trapped in a void where nothing else mattered, but she totally forgot about the lasagna. 

 

Eventually, Peter stingingly sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

 

“Smell what?” she asked, being brought out of her tunnel vision. “Shit! Peter, the oven! It’s been in there for like ninety minutes!” They were only twenty minutes into the second episode, that’s how she could tell.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Peter cursed. He sprung up and launched himself over the couch. “MJ, open some windows, please, and grab some magazines to fan out the smoke. God, I hope the fire alarm doesn’t go off.”

 

Michelle followed his directions hastily. When the windows were all opened and she had a few magazines in hand, Peter opened up the oven, and out came a large puff of black smoke. “Fan, MJ, fan!” he screamed.

 

She coughed, then waved the magazines up and down, disturbing the smoke. Peter grabbed the dish out of the oven then slammed the door shut. “Oh, shit,” he groaned, plopping their dinner on the counter.

 

It was completely charred over. Completely inedible. Now, Michelle’s appetizer wasn’t doing it for her.

 

“At least the fire alarm didn’t go off, right?” she chuckled, dropping the magazines on a table so she could lean her arm on Peter’s shoulder.

 

“We were warned that if it happened one more time, we’d be fined. That makes it sound like I do this all the time, but it’s all May. She can’t cook, at all. But the last time I did set off the fire alarm. I just didn’t think it’d happen today.” He frowned, looking at his ruined masterpiece with disappointment.

 

“Peter,” Michelle spoke softly, and took his head in her hands. “At least you tried, right? I really, really appreciate the effort.”

 

“I wanted this night to be perfect for you, MJ.” 

 

She cleared her throat, “Any night with you would be perfect. And I mean it.”

 

Then, Peter’s face lit up. He leaned forward and kissed her, very lightly, on the cheek.

 

“But-- I’m starving still,” she continued. “C’mon, let’s go get something from McDonald’s, Gordon Ramsay.” 

 

He grimaced. “ _ Gordon Ramsay _ ? Oh, God, you’re never going to let me live this one down, are you?”

 

“Absolutely not.” Michelle held her hand out for him to take, and he quickly did, interlacing their fingers together. “Wait, are you okay with McDonald’s, Chef Parker? It might be below your standards.”

 

“Please stop,” Peter begged.

 

“Never,” she promised. 

 

Michelle returned the kiss on the cheek. Their date was going to be perfect. Even if the dinner idea failed.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been writing a lot of angst lately so i hope my fluff is still good!! thank you sm for reading <3


End file.
